Jazz In Heat
by Abigail Rose V
Summary: Jazz is in heat. the sky's the limit on his interfacing, but will he ever spark bond with his mate-to-be?


Chapter 1

"I'll do anything! _Anything!_ " Starscream cowered against the wall, helplessly begging Soundwave not to whip him anymore.

Soundwave considered. "Make Jazz want me, _need me_ , and I will not harm you or your trine for what you have done. You have one month."

He raised the whip over his head menacingly as Starscream listened in horror.

" Your trine is next. And then see what Megatron thinks of your treachery, Autobot spy. "

"I'll do it! I'll do it! Just don't tell Megatron!" Starscream could not bear the thought of what Megatron would do to him and his trine when he found out they were secret Autobot spies.

"Very well. Do it then." Soundwave spun on his heel and left Starscream to scheme.

Trembling from helm to ped, Starscream slipped the tip of the needle into the exposed cable under his fingers.

He pressed down the plunger and grimaced as the concoction of Skywarp's heat hormones, his own restless seeker hormones, and Soundwave's genetic code entered Jazz's bloodstream, going straight to his processor and re-configuring it.

This would effectively trick the saboteur's body into thinking he was in heat, and would not let him rest until he interfaced and spark-bonded with Soundwave, just like a seeking seeker in heat without a mate.

"Sorry, old pal, but I had to do this." He whispered to the still form of his Autobot contact and friend, deep in recharge from the sedative mist Starscream had sprayed in his room only moments before. " I only hope you'll forgive me once you realize what has happened to you, and who did it. I'll explain if I ever get to see you again before you come to us."

Standing, he regretfully looked once more at Jazz's still form, then turned and left as silently as he'd come.

Jazz awoke the next morning, a strange feeling buzzing through his body.

It felt like he was… _in high arousal_?

He felt like he desperately needed to interface with someone, and interface _now_.

Retracting his interface panels, he gaped at his spike, fully erect and twitching madly.

Jazz wrapped his hand around his throbbing spike and pumped it a few times, letting out a moan as his whole body tingled, cords twisting their way from the protective covers in his wrists, searching for ports to plug it and other cords to entwine around, then forced his hand away and painfully closed the panels.

If wanting to interface so desperately wasn't bad enough, even worse was the fact he also had thoughts of having _sparklings_ with somebot.

What?!

"I gotta go see Ratchet." Jazz muttered as he hopped out of bed, trying to ignore the sudden need to tear out of his room and offer himself the first bot he saw.

He knew could choose anybot in the whole base, as there was only one or two who did not have a crush on him, something he well knew.

Jazz used this sometimes to tease his friends, and he enjoyed the attention, but he never had a serious relationship before, and that did not bother him.

If he wanted to interface, all he had to do was walk by anybot he so desired and wink at them.

They always followed eagerly, like a puppy after his master.

But this was different, this feeling made him want to try out bots for another reason then just pure pleasure, there was something serious and pressing beneath the overwhelming need for interface.

He needed to be sparked by another bot, and carry a newspark in his chassis.

He did not know why it was, but he was certain Ratchet would know, so he focused himself on getting to the med bay.

Quickly, he strode out his door and turned the direction towards Ratchet's med bay, when he felt a jolt go through his body with such force, he let out a small cry.

Walking around the corner in front of him, nose buried in a data pad and muttering to himself, was the most beautiful thing Jazz thought he'd ever seen: Prowl, obviously fresh from the wash racks and newly polished, paint gleaming as the hall lights glinted off it.

Jazz stood frozen, eyes hungrily drinking in every inch of Prowl's chassis as the unsuspecting tactician walked towards him, elegant doorwings and shapely hips swaying ever so slightly, smooth servos tapping away at the data pad, gleaming lips moving as they mouthed the numbers on the data pad, deliciously glossy scarlet horns all ready for Jazz's talented mouth to suck and lick…

"P-Prowl." He squeaked, feeling his knees go weak as the SIC glanced up from his work to smile at him.

"Good morning Jazz." He said, then paused, a frown replacing the smile on his face.

Jazz forced his trembling hands over his visor to block out the image of beautiful, perfect Prowl in front of him, but his cords were pushing out of his wrists, curling through the air erratically, and his mind would not stop conjuring up images of Prowl tying him up with his own cords, spanking him, roughly interfacing with him…

"Jazz?" Prowl was right in front of him now. "Is something wrong?"

He had to have seen the cords snaking their way towards him.

"Go, go away." Jazz forced out, his body rebelling against him as he tried to back away. "Don't talk to me, don't look at me. Just-get-Ratchet!" Jazz sank to his knees as he fought back the urge to jump on Prowl, stab his cord's prongs into every available port, bite his neck while his hands moved lower, and lower...

Jazz pressed his face into the floor and shuttered his visor, aware that Prowl had slowly backed away as he talked, and was now striding quickly off to the med bay to fetch Ratchet.

Gasping, Jazz slid back his codpiece and quickly opened his interface panels, sliding two fingers into the moist heat within, relief sweeping over the TIC as he pushed a third and a fourth finger in as well, his aching spike leaking glistening drops of lubricant.

He wound his cords around his remaining fingers, squeezing them and letting them prick under his opened armor plating, panting as the electric shocks zapped him repeatedly.

He moaned as he thrust his fingers in and out of his dripping port while imagining Prowl inside him, roughly taking him after having spanked him hard over his lap.

Quickly, he reached up with his free hand and grabbed one of his horns, twisting his hand around it in time to his thrusts, breathing out Prowl's name in needy whimpers, some of the prongs on his cords stabbing inside his horns, making him howl lustily.

Somebot stroked their fingers lazily over his frame, and he shuddered, his cords now straining to reach the other circuits they sensed nearby.

" _Jazz?!_ " Ratchet's voice reached him through the fog of pleasure that seemed to have taken control of his senses, and blearily he looked up, barely managing to online his visor.

"Proooowl?" he whined weakly, reaching towards the mech bending over him.

"No, it's Ratchet, and you're coming to my med bay at once."

Jazz felt himself being lifted in strong arms, and he leaned into the stern medic, mewling as his fingers were smoothly withdrawn and interface panels and codpiece were gently replaced, and cords fastened down and tied around his own arms.

"Fix this Ratchet, please." He begged quietly, whimpering as the older mech tightened his grip on him. "Please!"

"I'll fix it my way, not the way you're probably thinking Jazz." He said softly.

"I-I don't c-care, just fix it, fix it please!" a tear rolled out from under Jazz's visor, and he bucked slightly when Ratchet shifted a teeny bit, accidentally placing pressure on his sensitive horns and pulsing cords.

"Poor thing." Ratchet muttered as he readjusted Jazz's lolling head. "Whatever happened to you I'm going to find out, and then I'll fix whoever did this to you up real good."

"If I don't get to him first." Jazz chuckled weakly, the strain in his voice evident.

Ratchet broke into a run.

"Prime, we got a problem, and I mean a big problem."

"What is it Ratchet?"

"Somehow, Jazz has gone in heat, and it looks as if his processor won't stop producing the hormones for it until he finds a mate. There's a genetic code ingrained in here, but I can't remove it; it just rebuilds every time I try." Prime had never heard Ratchet sound so frustrated before.

"But Autobots can't come in heat." He could not help protesting.

"Are you telling me I don't know what I'm doing?" Ratchet inquired sharply.

"No no, it's just, that, well, I can't believe what I'm hearing." Prime tried to explain.

Ratchet sighed into the com. "I can't believe what I'm seeing."

A brief silence followed.

"Do you know whose genetic code it is?" Prime asked at length.

"No. I've ran it through my data base, and it is not an Autobot he is programmed to mate with." The old medic sounded tired.

"A Decepticon?" Prime sounded incredulous.

"Yep." Ratchet exhaled slowly.

"What do we do?" Prime asked.

"I was hoping _you_ could tell me that." Ratchet replied wearily.

Prime stood in front of the whole Autobot army, Jazz by his side, a gold band on each wrist to prevent his cords from winding out whenever he was near another bot.

Jazz had insisted that if he wore these, they had to look pretty, and the delicate-clasps locking these intricately engraved gold ones on his black wrists had appealed to him greatly.

They made his wrists look… dainty, and alluring, and for some reason Prime could hardly take his eyes from them, though for now, he had an announcement to make.

He looked out over them all solemnly.

He, Ratchet, and Jazz decided to tell the base of the spy's… problem.

"Autobots, I called you all here to give you some bad news." Prime began, and he was aware of Jazz shifting beside him, visor intently trained on Prowl. " Somehow, Jazz has went into heat."

Prime was not prepared for all the cheers and whistles that went up.

"Bad news? That's _great_ news!" Sideswipe hollered enthusiastically.

"Told ya." Jazz muttered.

Jazz _had_ warned Prime that the rest of the army would probably take advantage of this and be lining up to interface with him, but, as Prime was one of the only ones _not_ crazy for the TIC, he hadn't believed him fully.

Now he did.

He held up a massive servo for silence, and the nose gradually quieted down.

"That's not he only thing." He said gravely. " Jazz is programmed to mate with a Decepticon, only we don't know _which_ Decepticon. He will be driven to interface with you, but he will not spark-bond with any of you. We must keep him from all battles until his heat passes."

Groans of despair rose from the group.

"Sorry guys." Jazz sounded only partly apologetic. "Guess you all get to keep me for a while until this phases out, as I sure ain't spark-bonding with no Decpticreep."

" If you get near him, your body will not allow you any choice." Ratchet spoke up.

"Which is why you cannot fight until this is over." Prime reiterated firmly to the drooping assassin at his side.

"Then tie me to you, but don't make me stay behind." He pleaded sulkily. "I'll die of boredom!"

"No you won't." Ratchet replied smugly. "Because someone will have to stay behind with you, someone to keep you busy. I'd guess you wouldn't be bored at all."

A predatory grin made its way across Jazz's handsome face. " I'd guess not." He agreed.


End file.
